


Faux Pas

by marshmallowfluff



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fashion major Theon, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Like the faintest possible amount of angst, M/M, Modern Westeros, Mutual Pining, Robb Stark is a Gift, Robb is going to be a physical therapist but that isn't mentioned, Throbb Secret Santa 2017, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Who would have thought I could actually write gratuitous fluff, but it's Theon, so it has to be there, which is quickly resolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 11:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13145910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshmallowfluff/pseuds/marshmallowfluff
Summary: Theon loves Robb, truly he does. But you'd think the man would have vicariously attained some good taste after being Theon's best friend for over a decade.Or, the 5 times Robb's terrible fashion sense nearly drove Theon to an early grave, plus the 1 time Theon realized it wasn't so terrible after all.





	Faux Pas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TotemundTabu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/gifts).



> My gift to [robb-greyjoy](http://robb-greyjoy.tumblr.com/) for the 2017 Throbb Secret Santa gift exchange. This story (and accompanying art) fulfills his prompt "Theon as a fashion student and that disaster of his boyfriend who can't pair up stuff". It got slightly out of my hands. Damien, I hope you enjoy.

_I. In which it’s clear why Robb isn’t the fashion major_

 

Theon and Robb had been best friends since the day they’d met, much to the chagrin of Balon. And of Catelyn, and Ned. And Bran and Arya and Jon. Sansa as well, on occasion. And sometimes Theon, too, when Robb did things like this.

“Can you repeat that?” Theon asked, turning his ear to Robb, “Because I could have sworn...”

“I got T-shirts made for us to wear, for the party!”

“... yes, that you’d said something like that, but then I thought, no, that couldn’t be what he said because...”

“I designed them myself. Aren’t they great?”

“... those are just about the most meretricious, overwrought colors I have ever seen in union on a piece of apparel, so he _must_ be joking.”

Robb beamed at Theon with the shirt in his hands, looking excited and entirely unaffected by Theon’s incredulous expression. Theon would have thought that he was exhibiting a clear mix of horror and repulsion, but Robb didn’t seem to be picking up on that at all. He also didn’t look as though he was joking.

Theon gaped at Robb for a moment, before starting to open his mouth to inform Robb in no uncertain terms that he would never wear the item of clothing in Robb’s hands even to bed, let alone to a large party celebrating their ascent to university where there would be people to see him wearing it and photographs taken that would immortalize it. But then, Robb turned his gaze down to the shirt and his eyes softened in that way that had recently begun to make Theon’s mouth rather dry and his face rather warm.

“I know that we’re going to uni together, but finishing secondary... it’s like we’re ending this whole big chapter of our lives. Mum keeps telling me that we’re growing up, and things are going to change.”

Yeah, that sounded like Catelyn. She was probably keeping private her hope that the changes included maybe one day never having to see Theon again.

“It’s been a little frightening for me, to think about that. But I thought, and I know it’s rather silly, but if we had these shirts. We can wear them together, while we celebrate our final days as boys, and our first days as men. While we’re remembering our childhoods and looking to the future. And then, when things change, we will always have these shirts that we can go back to, and when we put them on perhaps it will help us think of the happy memories and smile, no matter what has happened.”

Then Robb looked up again with a smile so gentle and genuine that Theon wanted to take it and keep it somewhere secret so that he could remember the way it made him feel whenever he desired. He just couldn’t say no to that smile. Perhaps, Theon thought, wearing the shirt wouldn’t be quite so terrible.

And so that was how there existed a photograph of Theon and Robb and of course Jon – because Theon shouldn’t have assumed that this was a special thing for just he and Robb to share, that kind of thinking always just led him to disappointment – smiling a strained, disingenuous smile, and wearing a bright orange T-shirt with a crew neckline that was so high it acted as a noose, and lime green lettering declaring the year and the words “We did it!”

Robb was an oblivious goon and Theon had discovered on that day that wearing clashing neon colors was the lowest of the seven hells.

Theon never wore the shirt again after that. But he did keep it, in the depths of his closet, and sometimes on bad days he took it out and put it under his pillow when he slept. Robb was lucky he loved him.

 

_II. In which Robb arrives with flowers, but not the kind Theon would have expected_

 

It was the second semester of year one of university, and Theon had arrived late to the dining hall and found that not only was the onion soup lukewarm rather than hot, but all of the vanilla cake had already been taken by those students that hadn’t missed their bus and had to walk twenty-three minutes across campus after their evening makeup exam. The only saving grace of the night was that Robb was still sitting at the small booth he had claimed close to two hours earlier, slowly consuming the dwindling remains of a large bowl of stir-fry and typing out a paper on his laptop.

Theon set his tray down opposite Robb and made a noise of lamentation as he sat. “The exam was horrible, I guarantee I failed it,” he said, and then despondently picked up his spoon and stared into the tepid depths of his soup. “And to top it off, there wasn’t any cake left.”

Robb glanced up and smiled at him. “I’m sure you didn’t fail it. Here, take mine.” Robb lifted his dessert plate, which featured a generous slice of the white cake, and deposited it onto Theon’s tray beside his apple and the dry sandwich he’d made. Theon could have cried.

“Oh Robb, I could kiss you,” he sighed, and abandoned the soup in favor of the cake. Robb watched with fondness and a slightly flushed face, which was probably red from the amount of hot sauce he had added to his stir-fry.

It was the summer holiday after their first year of university, and Robb had somehow convinced his parents to let him borrow Ned’s car so that he could take a weekend trip to the beach with Theon. The only downside to the whole situation, from Theon’s perspective, was that Jon and his new girlfriend Ygritte were accompanying them, but Theon thought he could bear through it if it meant getting drunk on the beach with a shirtless Robb. Not that Robb not wearing a shirt was relevant; not that Theon had any particular desire to see Robb shirtless. It was just that Robb being shirtless was going to be an unavoidable part of the whole experience and therefore Theon might as well accept it.

Theon sat passenger and Robb as driver, with Jon and Ygritte together in the backseat. Theon could grudgingly admit that he appreciated Ygritte’s humor, and other than the undercut and manbun Jon had begun to sport after university life had “changed him” Jon really wasn’t any more annoying than he had been before graduation. That is, there wasn’t a palpable air of surliness surrounding him and bringing down the mood of the whole car, so the five-hour drive wasn’t totally unbearable.

That night, they checked into their cushy beachside hotel – they had planned to stay somewhere cheap and much less clean, but Catelyn hadn’t been able to bear the idea of her darling Robb staying anywhere that might expose him to dust or bad mattresses, so Ned and she had forked up enough to rent two rooms at the expensive place they would normally holiday – and then ate dinner at the hotel’s restaurant.

The following morning, the four of them went down to the beach.

“I’ll put sunscreen on your back for you if you do it for me,” offered Robb, and Theon gladly accepted. He removed his shirt and Robb knelt behind him, rubbed a dollop of the cream between his hands, and then began to lather it on.

“Oh,” Robb said with some surprise, “You’re really tense.” Theon felt Robb’s thumbs dig into the tight muscles in his neck and groaned.

“Yeah. Courtesy of my calculus and biology finals. Thank the gods I’m done with that core curriculum shit for good.”

Robb made a sympathetic noise and then pushed slightly at Theon’s shoulders. “Here, lie down on your front, let me massage that out. I got quite good in my kinesiology course.”

Theon allowed himself to tip forward and lowered himself down until he could turn his head to the side and rest it on his crossed arms. Robb threw one of his legs over Theon until he was resting in the sand on his knees over Theon’s hips. He began to gently work the knots out of Theon’s back. Theon moaned appreciatively.

“Gods, Robb, you’re a fucking gift. I could kiss you.”

Robb chuckled somewhat breathlessly and moved his hands lower down Theon’s spine, and continued the blessed massage in silence for a few moments. Theon hummed, the loosening of his muscles and the warmth of the hot summer sun lulling him into a semi-daze.

“Your phone is poking me,” he commented softly to Robb.

“What?”

“Your phone, in your front pocket,” continued Theon, a little louder so Robb could hear. “It’s digging into my lower back.”

“Oh,” Robb sputtered, voice going a little high. “Sorry.” He lifted his hips so they were hovering above Theon’s, not resting on top of them.

“You do know what that looks like?” called Jon, sounding affronted from where he’d set up his and Ygritte’s beach towels and umbrella. “There are children on this beach.”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Stark,” Theon mumbled. “Don’t stop, Robb.”

It was nearing the end of the first semester of the second year at university, and Theon was shivering as he walked back towards the dorms from the club he had attended that evening. Someone had stolen his jacket during the night, with his wallet inside the pocket, and so he’d been left in nothing but his tight, threadbare jeans and his thin T-shirt, a forty-minute walk from his warm bed but no means to pay for a taxi. Luckily, the weather wasn’t dire; the temperature hadn’t reached freezing, but it was cool enough to be extremely uncomfortable, and his toes were growing numb. Theon’s arms were wrapped around himself, chilled fingers tucked under his arms, but when his phone began to ring from his back jeans pocket – where luckily both it and his room keys had been – he uncurled them and answered. It took him several tries to start the call, with his thumb feeling thick and clumsy.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Theon?” Robb answered in a tone that was mildly worried. “You said you’d be back by now, I just wanted to check you’re okay.”

Oh Robb, sweet Robb. “Yes, I’m fine. Just lost my wallet is all, so I couldn’t call a taxi and the buses stopped running. I’m walking home right now.”

Robb’s noise of disapproval was obvious through the speaker. “You should have called me, I would have met you outside and paid for it.”

Theon shrugged. “Well, too late now. I just passed that fast-food Dornish restaurant, so I’ll just be a bit over a half-hour.”

“Alright.” Robb seemed dubious. “See you in a bit, then.”

Theon walked, dwelling despondently on the cold and his numbed extremities, for another ten minutes until a cyclist appeared out of the dark on the pavement moving towards him. Theon moved aside to let them pass, but the bicycle slowed and stopped beside him, and with a start Theon realized that it was Robb.

“Robb?” he asked dumbly, as though he might possibly be hallucinating (which wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility if what he’d taken earlier had been laced with something he hadn’t been told about). Robb smiled but then frowned with concern upon noticing Theon’s bare arms.

“Where in the world has your jacket gone? You’re freezing!”

“Someone stole it,” said Theon with what was supposed to be a casual shrug, but likely exhibited as a somewhat violent shudder. Immediately, Robb began to remove his own coat. He held it out to Theon with worry.

“Here, wear mine.”

“But what about yourself?” Robb was only wearing the old shirt he used as pajamas underneath, and Theon could see goose pimples beginning to rise on his upper arms.

“Don’t worry about me. I can’t believe you, walking home at this time of night like that! It’s freezing, and even if it wasn’t, it’s not safe!”

Theon cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “What? Not safe? I walk this distance all the time. I’m not going to sprain my ankle and stagger into the street or something.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, the way you’re dressed...” Robb trailed off with a scowl and a flush, looking Theon up and down. Theon took the coat that still hung from his outstretched hands and rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I know, I’m not dressed for the weather. We’ve already gone over this.”

The interior of the coat was heated from Robb’s body, and the instant Theon had pulled it on he felt soothed and warm. He closed his eyes and buried his lower face in the collar gratefully, sighing with relief. “Oh, I could kiss you right now.”

Robb just clenched his jaw. “Come on, climb on.” He scooted forward so that Theon had room to perch on the rear of his bicycle seat; Theon obeyed and put his arms around Robb’s waist from behind and flattened his hands on Robb’s ribs. Robb’s body heat felt fantastic against Theon’s numb fingers, but the way they probably felt like little icicles made Robb shiver.

“If this happens again, call me before you try to walk home alone in the middle of the night in the freezing cold. You could get yourself hurt.”

Theon rested his cheek against Robb’s warm neck and smiled against Robb’s back. “My savior,” he muttered facetiously as Robb kicked off the pavement and began to drive them towards the dorm.

“Hold on tighter so you don’t slip off,” Robb replied, and Theon tightened his grip on Robb’s chest. He could feel the hitch in Robb’s breathing as Robb pedaled harder with the weight of an extra person on his bike.

It was the evening before his History of Textiles exam, the second semester of his second year, and Theon was falling asleep at the library table. His elbow was resting on the tabletop in front of his laptop, with his chin propped up against the heel of his palm; every time he began to doze, his elbow slipped and he was jolted rudely to wakefulness, which was irritating but decidedly better than actually falling asleep and thereby failing the exam. Still, the fact that he had been reading the same three sentences for the past forty minutes probably meant that sleep wouldn’t be much less productive than his current state of mind.

He was just reading the second of the sentences for probably the sixteenth time when the chair beside him was pulled away from the table. Given that it was nearing midnight and not generally an exam-dense week of the semester for most students there was an abundance of free tables and chairs, so the person who had decided to sit next to Theon was bound to either be oblivious, aiming to steal his laptop, or Robb.

“Working hard?” Robb asked, and Theon scoffed and used his knuckles to rub his eyes.

“I wish. You know where I can buy illicit Adderall?”

Robb’s laugh was a lovely respite from the text on Theon’s computer screen. “Unfortunately, no. But perhaps this will be almost as good?” He set a twenty-ounce cardboard coffee cup down in front of Theon’s face, steam and the delightful scent of vanilla wafting up from the opening in the lid. Almost instinctively, Theon’s hands shot down to wrap around it and pull it towards him; his eyes rolled back towards his skull as he inhaled deeply and the heat of the coffee seeped into his palms.

“Holy fuck, where the fuck did you find this in the middle of the fucking night?” he asked, and Robb snorted at his expression, which was likely rather silly.

“Off the record, I called my manager and told her that I’d forgotten my dorm and room keys in the breakroom today after work. She told me the code to get past the security lock on the condition that I never tell another soul and take on an extra shift from her next week.”

Theon gaped at his friend and put a hand to his chest. “Robb Stark, you’ve made up a lie in order to enter your place of work after closing to make me an illicit cup of my favorite drink? This might be the kindest, most illegal thing anyone has ever done for me. I could kiss you.”

He turned back to his drink, and Robb watched with apparent contemplation as Theon took a long sip from the cup, barely noticing the heat of the liquid in favor of the bitter coffee and sweet vanilla taste spreading over his tongue.

“Why don’t you?” Robb asked, when Theon had lowered the cup back to the table. Theon furrowed his brow slightly.

“Why don’t I what?”

“Kiss me.”

The space between them was suddenly heavy and buzzing, though they both were silent as they stared at each other. Theon felt his chest grow uncomfortably tight. He began to open his mouth to respond several times with no success; the only sound he managed was a faint squeak.

Robb was blushing furiously by then, but he didn’t turn away from Theon as he continued.

“It’s just, you say that all the time. That you could kiss me. But you never do. And I mean, I know you’re sort of an hopeless flirt, but I thought you might’ve meant it, with me. Only I’ve been trying to flirt back for about a year now and you haven’t really reacted, so maybe you’re just oblivious? So, if you really are oblivious, here I am, trying to make it explicit: if you really could kiss me, I could kiss you too.”

In silence, they gazed into each other’s eyes for a few more long moments. Then, Theon reached forward towards Robb’s cheek, and the air between them suddenly softened and Robb surged forward to meet Theon. Their lips collided and hands raised to cup the other’s face, Theon’s thumbs stroking the stubble roughening Robb’s jaw and Robb’s fingers brushing Theon’s long hair behind his ears.  

After a long while, they broke apart and breathed out against each other’s lips, pressing their foreheads together and smiling, laughing breathlessly.

“Oh gods,” Theon said, his voice breaking embarrassingly, “Robb, I’ve been wanting this for so long.”

“Theon,” Robb sighed fervently, “Theon. Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Theon nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to go on a date?”

“Sure. With who?”

Robb pulled back, frowning, and gestured to himself. “With me. Your boyfriend?”

Oh Robb, sweet Robb, dense Robb. Theon laughed and fell against Robb’s broad chest, much to Robb’s bemusement.

It was the weekend after Theon and Robb had become official, and Theon was waiting outside the student union for Robb, who was bound to arrive within ten minutes for their date. Theon, in a fit of nervous energy, had chosen an outfit that was likely far too nice for what they would be doing – which was simply attending the new comedy movie that Robb wanted to see, and then going to dinner at Robb’s favorite local diner. Theon might have chosen an activity with a bit more flair, but although he was arrogant, vain, and selfish (to name a few of his less savory traits), he was none of those things in regards to Robb. Robb brought out the best in him, truly.

Theon was leaning against the brick wall of the Union when Robb greeted him, staring out at the quad and watching the few students meander their way along the pavement towards weekend study sessions. He turned to find him, and first took in his lovely, happy face and his messy, auburn hair, before absorbing Robb’s date-outfit of choice. Then, he simply gaped in horrified disbelief.

“What are you wearing?” he asked, and Robb seemed rather taken aback, looking down at his clothes and back up at Theon.

“What? Why?” He rubbed his hands up and down across the front of his shirt, as though searching for tears or stains he might have missed.

“You... are you being serious? It’s not a joke?”

“What are you talking about? I thought it looked nice!” Robb said, distressed.

“Two dissimilar floral patterns in contrasting sizes and colors is not ‘nice’,” Theon said flatly.

Robb plucked at the hem of his plum floral button-up shirt in confusion as he smoothed down the leg of his ochre shorts, which displayed a larger and more lurid floral print, with his other hand.

“But this is one of my nice shirts, and Mum bought me these shorts. I thought since they both have flowers, they match?”

Theon reached up to rub his temples and shook his head. “No,” he moaned helplessly, “That’s not how it works.”

“Do you want me to change?”

Now Robb was looking nervous and insecure, the happy smile that he’d greeted Theon with having disappeared to be replaced by uncertainty. Theon felt a twinge of guilt; that hadn’t been his intention. It was just that the outfit was _so bad_ , and so _poorly coordinated_ , that he hadn’t been able to help his reaction. He took a breath and released it, letting go of the remnant tension.

“No,” he said, and smiled at Robb. “No, don’t worry about it, really. I never liked you for your fashion sense.” And he moved closer to stand beside Robb and took his hand.

Robb smiled back with relief, but slowly the smile broadened and the corners of his eyes crinkled and the small dimple on his left cheek appeared, the way it only did when he was genuinely happy.

“And I never liked you for yours,” he returned, which Theon decided to take as a compliment because Robb had obviously intended it that way. He leaned into Robb’s side and laughed.

“You know what, Robb? I could kiss you right now.”

Robb beamed. “You really could, couldn’t you?”

When they made out during the movie, Theon forgot all about Robb’s hideous choice of clothes in the darkness.

 

_III. In which Robb is simultaneously a kind and thoughtful boyfriend and also the worst thing that has ever happened to Theon_

Theon was taking a figure sketching course in the fall semester of his third year, both to fulfill an elective and to improve his design skills. He had always been talented in three-dimensional media (sculpture and pottery, and of course draping and patterning apparel), but his aptitude for sketching and painting had always been mediocre, if not lacking. Over the duration of the art course he had actually begun to improve, which has also translated to a marked enhancement of his croquis figures in his fashion design classes.

Taking the course with him were a few of his friends in his same major and year, who always set up their easels around him and enjoyed spending the duration of the class making invasive comments of wonderment about whether the male model’s physique resembled that of Theon’s boyfriend. All but one of them were single and Theon had never introduced them to Robb, and so obviously that was most gripping conversation topic to be had.

“What do you think of this one?” Marei asked, quiet enough so that only she, Theon, Talla, and Lhara could hear the words, but loud enough still that the other students cast them looks of annoyance. “He’s taller than the last. Is your boyfriend tall, Theon?”

Theon, who was making gesture lines on his paper with pencil before he turned to his charcoal, remained tight-lipped.

“Didn’t he mention at some point a while ago that his man was shorter than him?” asked Lhara, and she was right, but Theon had only said it because the three of them had been teasing him for over an hour by implying that the only reason Theon had a pair of boots with five-centimeter heels was because Robb must be taller than he was, and that he was compensating. The true reason, of course, was that the boots were just fucking great, and complimented most outfits, and the implication that Theon had bought them for anything other than as a sound fashion investment had made him petulant and defensive.  

“Oh, yeah,” Marei mused, tapping her chin with the end of her charcoal pencil and smudging it black. “Well, what about his hair, then? Is his hair close to your boyfriend’s color, Theon?”

Theon ignored her as he continued to sketch, but his eyes did drift to examine the model’s hair. It was a dark blond; much lighter than Robb’s, and much finer, and not curly.

“Hmm, what kind of man does Theon Greyjoy date?” wondered Talla aloud. “What do we know about him for certain?”

“He’s shorter than Theon, though we can’t be sure how much. He’s from the North, so he must have a sexy northern accent.” Lhara was counting out the short list of facts that Theon had relented on her fingers. “He’s got broader shoulders than Theon.”

“How in the fuck would you know that?” asked Theon, distracted momentarily from his work. Lhara smirked.

“You wore one of his shirts once, and it was too big on you,” she told him.

“How do you know it was his? Maybe it was mine.”

Lhara’s laugh was loud and attracted the attention of some of the other students, who shushed her but had long grown used to their antics. “Oh sweetie, we know you, and you would never own a top that didn’t fit you perfectly.”

“So he’s buff and of average height,” continued Talla. “I bet he’s some sort of science major. Or tech. Otherwise we’d have seen him around campus by now.”

“How would we know if we had? Maybe he just doesn’t frequent the fine arts department. I can see Theon dating a philosophy major.”

“You can?” Theon asked skeptically.

“He’s probably very well dressed,” sighed Marei, “One of those guys who knows his way around a department store. They probably go shopping together. He’s likely very fashionable... though not as flamboyant as Theon, of course.”

“Flamboyant?” objected Theon, and Marei dismissed him with a flippant wave of her hand.

“Confident, stylish. It’s a compliment, Theon.”

Theon had no idea how he’d come to be friends with women like these. To be quite honest, he wouldn’t likely have labelled them friends, if only because Theon had never been good at making ones of his own and could never be sure what that kind of relationship entailed. But after their shared design course in their second semester at uni, in which they had been put into a group project together, the three ladies had decided that they and Theon should stick together for the duration of their schooling, come what may. Theon could admit that he enjoyed their company, and on occasion it was nice to have someone to confide in that wasn’t Robb, and working on his projects was a great deal more enjoyable when he wasn’t alone in the workshop.

“I’ll bet he knows how to color-coordinate,” Talla said dreamily, “And matches his shoes to his outfits.”

“I’ll bet he knows how to hand-wash silk,” offered Lhara with a similar tone of wistfulness. “My boyfriend has ruined so much of my lingerie, I just don’t let him do my laundry anymore.”

“I’ll bet he sorts laundry by color, and folds everything instead of just stuffing it into the dresser,” said Marei.

All those things were incorrect assumptions, but Theon just stayed silent and focused on his sketching.

About halfway through the class, after the model had changed poses for the third time, the door to the room opened and someone poked their head in. Theon, who was focused on not smudging his charcoal, didn’t look up as the professor went over to greet the visitor. There was a low murmur of conversation, then the door opened further and the guest stepped in, paused to survey the room, and then made their way over towards Theon.

“Hey,” Robb said softly, and when Theon – immersed in his concentration and not immediately recognizing his voice – didn’t respond, he raised his volume a little and repeated, “Hey, Theon.”

Theon started and looked around. Robb was standing beside him, looking rather sheepish, with a small grin and a paper bag in one hand and a coffee in the other.

“Hey,” Theon said. “Oh, hey, what are you doing here?”

Lhara, Talla, and Marei were all looking at the two of them with some curiosity, and Theon could see that a spark of understanding had begun to ignite behind Marei’s eyes.

“You’ve got that stats exam this afternoon,” Robb said quietly, “And you forgot your wallet in the apartment. You need your student ID, don’t you?”

“Oh shit, yeah,” Theon said, and Robb smiled and held out both hands.

“I brought you your wallet, and I stopped by the café to grab you something to eat since I know you won’t get yourself lunch if left to your own volition. And I made you your favorite drink, for good luck.” He gave Theon a brief wink, which caused both of his eyes to close because he wasn’t very good at winking, but gave the intended impression all the same.

“Robb, you’re a life-saver,” Theon said gratefully, taking the bag and glancing inside of it for a moment to observe its contents before setting it on the floor and taking the coffee. “If I’d gone to that exam without my ID I would have been totally fucked.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” Robb grinned, and then leaned in to lay a quick kiss at the tip of Theon’s nose, then another, longer one on his lips. Though none of his friends were making a sound, Theon could practically hear them vibrating with glee.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your _friend_?” piped up Lhara, and Robb looked over at her, surprised and somewhat pleased. Theon sighed and gestured to the three women.

“These are Lhara, Marei, and Talla,” he said, turning his gaze towards the floor in an effort to avoid the what were undoubtedly smug expressions on his friends’ faces. “Lhara, Marei, Talla, this is Robb.” Robb greeted them all with warmth, but the professor was looking meaningfully in their direction and so Theon thanked his boyfriend again before nudging him towards the door.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” he said as Robb left the room, and Robb nodded and smiled at him.

After Robb had departed, Theon turned back towards his easel and attempted to continue his figure sketch, but he could feel three pairs of eyes boring into him and it made it rather difficult to concentrate.

“So,” started Lhara, dragging the word out and making it several syllables long. “He’s only a few centimeters shorter than you.”

“He’s toned as all hells,” whistled Talla, “Those biceps! And that northern drawl!” She put her hand over her heart and pretended to swoon.

“Such lovely red hair,” said Marei with a nod, “And the curls! How rugged.”

“But...” Lhara challenged, and there was humor in her tone, and Talla and Marei were both suppressing laughter, and Theon knew exactly what they were getting at and buried his face in his hands.

“Was he wearing socks with _flip-flops_?” asked Marei, and the three women erupted into giggles.

“And khaki cargo shorts,” hiccoughed Talla, overcome with laughter.

“And was he wearing that T-shirt unironically?” tittered Lhara, her raised hand not managing to conceal her broad grin. It had been one of Robb’s favorite shirts, something he had found in a thrift store that displayed an image of a grey wolf howling at a moon, which Robb had eagerly bought because it reminded him of his dog. The shirt had a certain Robb-ish charm that Theon could appreciate while Robb was wearing it, but in and of itself the shirt was remarkably hideous.

“Stop,” Theon pleaded, peeking around himself through his fingers and seeing that others in the room were staring.

“Oh no,” Lhara cackled, wagging her finger at him as Marei accidentally broke her charcoal in her amusement. “Theon, we are never letting this go.”

“At least he’s hot,” supplied Talla, her voice breaking slightly still with laughter, “And he treats you well.”

“I don’t think anything can make up for _socks with flip-flops_ ,” said Marei with a disapproving shake of her head.

“You all are the worst,” Theon groaned. “This is the worst. I’m quitting. I’m dropping out.”

Lhara tutted. “Just so long as you don’t let him go. His fashion sense may be tragic, but he looks like he serves truly phenomenal dick.”

“It’s the only thing that could make up for the fashion sense, really,” agreed Marei. “Can you see Theon dating him if it weren’t so?”

“Not like Theon would date anyone out of genuine love or affection or anything,” quipped Talla.

Theon shook his head and tried to avoid eye-contact with the professor, who was glaring. “I hate all of you.”

 

_IV. In which Catelyn is trying to kill Theon off and Robb is oblivious_

 

That winter holiday, Robb invited Theon to join him and his family at their holiday home in the Northern Mountains. Theon agreed, partly because he wanted to spend as much time with his boyfriend as possible and partly because he adored any excuse to avoid his own family. What he had failed to consider when he’d accepted the invitation were the negatives; mainly, that he would be confined in a mountain cottage, isolated from civilization, with Jon and Ygritte (which would be irksome enough) and also with Catelyn and Ned, who hadn’t been around him for any great length of time since he’d started dating their eldest son and who probably were waiting for the opportunity to give him some sort of shovel talk. Or, better yet, to find a convenient ledge on a nearby mountain to push him from. Theon had never had any illusion of him being in the Stark parents’ good graces.

“Why are you nervous?” asked Robb, taking Theon’s hand as they waited for the other passengers in front of them to deboard the plane. “It’s just my family. You’ve known them since you were nine.”

“Yes, but back then I wasn’t dating their darling firstborn,” retorted Theon, feeling uncomfortable and jittery and frustrated that Robb couldn’t understand why Theon would be so. “I’m fairly sure your parents always hoped you’d be rid of our friendship long before now, Robb, and now you’re bringing me to their holiday retreat where they’ll have to worry about much more than just me teaching you profanity.”

Robb laughed, because of course he never took seriously Theon’s very valid anxieties about Robb’s parents’ approval. Theon just let out a disgruntled huff and stood in the aisle to follow the meandering crowd towards the exit of the plane.

They had all flown into the small airport, and their arrivals had been staggered, but Theon and Robb’s had been the last, and so when they exited the terminal it was to find Ned, Catelyn, Jon and Ygritte, and the remaining four Stark children waiting near the baggage claim. Robb greeted his family with warm hugs and some tears, and Theon greeted them with a false smile and politeness stimulated by anxiety. Bran and Arya said hello with pre-teen awkwardness, Rickon gave him a tight hug about his waist, and Sansa smiled at him shyly because she’d had sort of a crush on him since he’d taught her how to use a sewing machine. Too bad Theon was currently dating her older, manlier, far less fashionable brother.

They all shared two rental cars and drove an hour and a half to the winter home, whereupon Catelyn told the children that they would be sharing the basement, using the pull-out sofa and two blow-up mattresses to sleep on (immediately after being told, they scampered down the stairs with their luggage to unpack); Catelyn and Ned would of course take the master bedroom; Jon and Ygritte were welcome to share one of the other two; and Robb and Theon...

“Robb, you can take the last bedroom, and Theon, you’re welcome to the sofa in the sitting room.”

Theon gaped. Ygritte looked like she was unsure of whether it would be acceptable to laugh, while Jon was looking studiously unsurprised (though he actually seemed exasperated on Theon’s behalf, which warmed Theon slightly to him). Robb frowned and cocked his head.

“I think it will be fine if Theon sleeps with me,” he told his mother. “It’s a large bed, there’s more than enough room.”

“But you’re such an active sleeper, I’m sure Theon would be much more comfortable in the sitting room.”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that, Theon and I have been sharing a bed for a great while now, and Theon’s presence settles me. I don’t toss and turn all night anymore, right, Theon?” Robb smiled encouragingly at Theon, and Theon nodded.

“Er, yes, that’s right. He doesn’t even steal blankets anymore.” Theon ran his fingers nervously through his hair. Catelyn’s face was stony, and Ned sought to lessen the tension.

“I’d like the sitting room free at night anyway, so I can watch the telly. If Theon and Robb say it’s fine, there’s no need for Theon to take up the sofa.”

Later, as Robb and Theon unpacked their clothes from their suitcases and stowed them in the empty dresser of their room, Robb was perturbed.

“That was bizarre, wasn’t it? Why would she assume Jon and Ygritte would sleep together but not you and I?”

“I have no idea, Robb, maybe she just didn’t realize how serious we were?” Theon didn’t want to disturb Robb’s image of his mother; he knew Robb’s relationship with her had always been very close. But honestly, he was fairly sure everyone but Robb and maybe Rickon knew of Catelyn’s disdain for him.

“We’ve been dating for eight months, and we’ve been friends since we were boys. Surely she knows we’re serious.”

“Maybe she wishes we weren’t,” Theon muttered too low for Robb to hear, and then louder, “Well, perhaps she’ll see it after this holiday.”

Robb bit his lip, and nodded decisively. “Yes. I’m sure she will. She must.”

The remainder of the holiday passed interestingly, to say the least.

Their first morning in the winter home, Catelyn made the family coffee. The content of Theon’s cup was so hot that it scalded his tongue, despite Robb’s being a perfectly reasonable temperature (“What an odd fluke,” Robb laughed). The following day, they went horseback riding on the safest of the mountain trails, and for some odd reason when Catelyn passed Theon by, the horse Theon was riding became so spooked that he bucked and bolted, throwing Theon off his back and into a heap in a pile of snow (“Thank the gods you’re alright, that could have been terrible!” Robb gasped after having dismounted his own steed and helped Theon to his unsteady feet). Two days later, they decided to travel the short distance to the nearby skiing lodge and Theon somehow ended up separated from the rest of the family, forced to ski cross-country an extra three miles before finding the proper slope, and reuniting with Robb in the lodge two hours late due to his incompetence at the sport. He was red-nosed and shivering, teeth chattering and lips pale, and Robb enveloped him in a warm hug.

“Where in the gods were you? If you’d been another half hour, I would have called a rescue party!”

“I lost track of you all after your mother told me to go left at the fork,” Theon stuttered, and Robb pulled him over to the fireplace and put a steaming cup of hot chocolate in his trembling hands.

“No, we went right at the fork, you must have misheard her,” Robb said, and Theon was too cold and tired to object. Catelyn probably wasn’t actually trying to kill Theon, but he was beyond certain that she was actively attempting to chase him off. If he were honest with himself, he was a little hurt that the mother of the man he loved seemed to hate him so much. But Theon was nothing if not dishonest with himself, and so he was just annoyed.

The following morning, Theon awoke in the bed he shared with Robb to find himself ill. What woke him was a cough, which then multiplied into a fit that left his chest aching as he attempted without success to fill his lungs, doubled over and on the verge of vomiting. Robb was patting his back and frowning with concern; after Theon had finally sucked in a full breath of air, he went to the bathroom and returned with a glass of water and a warm, wet towel, which he used to pat at Theon’s forehead and neck while Theon drank.

“Thanks,” Theon rasped, voice thick and throat unmistakably sore.

“You have a fever,” Robb said, pressing the back of his hand to Theon’s forehead. “Let me make you some tea, and I’ll see if we have any soup. Here, come into the sitting room, you can rest on the sofa and watch television.”

Robb helped Theon to stand, and guided him to the large sofa; it was aid that Theon didn’t physically need, but appreciated greatly what with his throbbing head and wobbly legs. Robb unfolded the quilt and spread it over Theon’s legs and then handed Theon the remote before parting to go to the kitchen.

Theon fiddled with the remote and attempted to find something to watch that wasn’t children’s cartoons, news, or shitty soap operas. He had finally settled on what promised to be the entire rerunned thirteenth season of _The Bachelor_ , which Theon was too sick to be ashamed to enjoy, when Robb emerged carrying a tray.

Momentarily, Theon was struck by how domestic Robb appeared, barefoot in a pair of Theon’s pajama bottoms (when had he stolen those?) and a worn T-shirt, hair messy, a track of drool dried across the side of his face and lines still imprinted on his cheek from where he’d lain on some crumpled section of the bed linens. Theon’s throat was tight for an entirely separate reason than his cold when he swallowed, and since when was he so maudlin? It must have been the fever.

Robb approached and set the tray on the coffee table in front of Theon. It was loaded with a hot mug of tea that smelled like ginger and likely was liberally dosed with honey, a bowl of chicken and vegetable broth, and an assortment of biscuits as though Robb hadn’t been able to decide which kind would be best.

Robb glanced at the television screen to see a collective of women in cocktail dresses drinking wine, and smiled with fondness. “I’ll be right back. Drink some tea, alright?”

Theon nodded dopily, and took a few small sips as Robb vanished back into their bedroom. Several minutes later, Robb’s bare feet padded back towards the couch, and Theon turned away from his bad TV to see what he’d brought out.

Hands fidgeting on a ribbon-wrapped parcel, Robb was blushing as he sat beside Theon, causing the cushions to shift and Theon to topple a bit. Robb nibbled at his bottom lip as he held the package out to Theon, and nodded as Theon reached to take it.

“It’s a gift,” he started hesitantly. “My gift to you, I mean. For Midwinter’s Eve. I would have waited, but I know you aren’t particularly adhered to tradition, so I thought you wouldn’t mind receiving it early, and I think it might help you to feel better.”

Robb was right; Theon’s family may have celebrated according to tradition before Alannys had taken ill, but that had been earlier than Theon’s memory could recall. With Alannys in hospital and Balon in full control, Theon’s Midwinter’s Eves had never been quite the Hallmark card that the Starks’ had surely been, so he didn’t care about opening his gift a few evenings early.

Theon plucked at the end of the ribbon binding the parcel until the bow unraveled, and then he pulled away the tissue paper to reveal a hideous jumper. He stared at it in silence as Robb observed him with baited breath. The jumper was navy, the knit uneven and chunky; as Theon unfolded it and held it aloft with both hands to see it fully, more colors were revealed, collectively appearing as several white snowflakes, a misshapen mountain scene, and two wolves – one grey and one black, both cut from felt, with googly eyes sewn on – appliqued with careful but uneven stitching. It was as ugly as could possibly be, something Theon would gag at if he spotted it on a rack in a shop, something that he would never be caught dead in public wearing, and Theon sniffled despite himself and felt his eyes prickling with grateful tears.

“I started knitting it myself in July,” said Robb shyly. “I had to start over a few times, it was harder than I thought it would be. I know it’s not done as well as it could be, but it’s warm, and quite comfortable. I didn’t use shitty acrylic yarn, so the colors won’t fade in the wash.”

“It’s nice,” choked out Theon, then coughed slightly and shifted, sitting up so that he could pull the jumper over his head. Robb leaned in to help when he became a bit tangled in the arms, but in moments Theon was tugging the hem down. The jumper was quite large on him, the arms falling several centimeters past his wrist so that he had to roll up the sleeve, and Theon could probably fit Arya and Rickon in the body of it alongside him.

“It’s a little large,” admitted Robb, “I didn’t want it to shrink in the wash and make it unwearable.”

Really, it was already rendered unwearable by appearance alone, but with the huge size of it Theon would definitely never be wearing it around Lhara, who would be likely to mock him for an indeterminate length of time. Theon hugged himself loosely, feeling the chunky knit beginning to warm his shivering body, the soft material heavy and comforting.

“Thank you,” he whispered, blinking furiously. He wasn’t actually so touched by an ugly jumper; it was the fever. Yes, undoubtedly the fever.

Robb reached out to put his arm about Theon’s shoulders and pulled him flush against his side, planting a firm kiss on Theon’s hot forehead, then another at his temple over his messy and sweat-dampened hair, and then another gently at the corner of his mouth. Then, with his broad palm he took Theon’s face and pulled until the side of Theon’s head was cradled in the nook of Robb’s shoulder. Robb took the blanket and spread it over both their laps and again wrapped his arm around Theon, leaned his chin on top of Theon’s head, and used his free hand to trace the bones in Theon’s pale wrist as he turned to the television screen.

“I’m sorry you’re sick, but I’m happy you’re here,” he said softly, and Theon could feel the movement of his throat, and the hum of his voice vibrated all the way down to Theon’s chest. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” whispered Theon in response, and looked past Robb to see Catelyn standing silently at the entrance to the kitchen. She stared at the two of them pensively, an indeterminate expression that seemed to soften as Theon looked. After he had watched her for a few moments, she smiled a small but definite smile, _at Theon_ , and it was probably just his fever, it was making him delusional.

But then again, maybe it had been real, because after that, suddenly the film of ice that had always separated him and the Stark matriarch seemed to have melted. She wasn’t suddenly chummy with Theon, but it no longer seemed as though Catelyn was counting the days until Robb left him, and that honestly was more than Theon had ever hoped for.

 

_V. In which Robb doesn’t know the proper way to wear a suit despite being Eddard Stark’s son_

 

For their one-year anniversary, Robb and Theon had made reservations at one of the high-end restaurants in the city. It was the kind of place that would put a sizeable dent in their wallet, but if the reviews were to be believed, the food and experience would be worth the price tag. Theon had been at work all afternoon, and so had changed into his charcoal suit after work and took a taxi to meet Robb in front of the restaurant, with a brief stop along the way to pick up the small bouquet of white peonies and lavender that he had ordered from a local flower shop. Never let anyone say that Theon couldn’t be romantic if he put in the effort.

Six minutes before the time for their reservation, Robb appeared around a corner down the street, having taken the short walk along the pavement from the nearest bus stop. He beamed at the sight of Theon and hurried his pace, arriving in moments and immediately pulling Theon close for a kiss. When he pulled back, he looked at the slightly crumpled bouquet and blushed.

“Are these for me?” he asked, and Theon rolled his eyes.

“Who else?” he quipped, then smiled and handed them over. While Robb admired the gift, Theon allowed his eyes to rake up and down Robb’s body with burgeoning displeasure.

It was immediately clear that Robb hadn’t bought himself a new suit since his second year of secondary school. This was obvious because firstly, it was black, a color suitable only for a funeral or wedding, and Robb’s grandmother’s funeral was the only occasion he had ever worn a suit to; secondly, the jacket was visibly straining against Robb’s broad shoulders and the trousers were too short in the leg, showing a half-centimeter of ginger-haired ankle. On top of the misfitting suit, Robb’s socks matched neither his suit nor his polished shoes (of which the laces had at some point been replaced with ones that were three shades too light), and his tie was too short. The only part of the failed ensemble Theon could fix was the jacket, of which Robb had all the buttons fastened; Theon reached forward to undo the top and bottom buttons.

“You only need the button the middle one,” he told Robb, who was allowing Theon’s actions with only mild confusion.

“Why?”

“There’s a lot of historical context involving how royalty affected fashion trends, but all you need to know is that it’s just the way it is.”

“Oh.”

Theon closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, reminded himself that he really didn’t care that Robb wasn’t wearing a perfectly tailored or matching suit, and then opened them again and smiled. “Shall we go in?”

The hostess led them to a table in the center of the restaurant, commenting as she did on the bouquet that Robb was holding.

“What lovely flowers,” she said, “Is it a special date?”

“Our one-year anniversary,” Robb said delightedly, and the woman smiled and congratulated them before leaving them to wait on their server.

The dinner was lovely; they shared an expensive bottle of wine and a plate of starters, and for their main course Robb ordered the tenderloin steak and Theon the duck. Both dishes were cooked to perfection, which was sort of necessary considering the price. Theon had nearly forgotten about Robb’s fashion faux pas by the time they were sharing dessert – a decadent chocolate cake accompanied by three small scoops of different flavored ice creams – when a man stopped by their table unexpectedly and greeted them.

“Do pardon me, but I find you to be quite familiar, though I can’t place it,” the man said, and Robb looked up, politely befuddled, while Theon’s jaw dropped open.

Oberyn fucking Martell, head of the major Martell fashion house, was smiling down and looking directly at him.

Theon opened and closed his mouth a few times as he searched frantically for words, and Robb looked between the two of them with concern. Finally, Theon found his voice, though it emerged shaky and faint.

“Ah, well, I’m a student at the College of Fashion Design here, I know you attended our show last semester, perhaps..?”

“Ah, yes, that’s it,” Oberyn said, dimples appearing to frame his white teeth within his broad smile. “Yours was the closing look, wasn’t it? It showed a lot of promise.”

“Thank you, sir,” Theon stammered. “I... I’m a great admirer of your work. That means a lot.”

“It’s only the truth. What year are you in?”

“Third year, sir.”

Oberyn nodded thoughtfully. “And have you been working on any new projects, lately?”

Theon gave an aborted shrug. “I’m always sketching, but, er, we do have another project this semester.”

“I see.” Oberyn reached into his suit pocket and withdrew a stark white business card, which he held out to Theon, who took it with trembling fingers. “Well, when you’ve finished, why don’t you take some pictures on a model. Email them to my secretary with a few of your favorite sketches and your resume; the address is on the card. I’ll see if I can offer you an internship for the summer.”

Theon, in shock, continued to stare between Oberyn and the card in his hand, before regaining his senses and scrambling to his feet, outstretching his hand to shake. Robb followed his lead after a split second, standing and still looking between the strange man and his boyfriend.

“Thank you, sir, really, I really appreciate the opportunity,” Theon said as Oberyn accepted his handshake. Oberyn smiled and nodded.

“Of course. I’m glad I ran into you, ...?” he allowed himself to trail off and raised his brows meaningfully, and it took Theon a moment to realize what he was searching for.

“Theon,” he told him, “Theon Greyjoy. Me too. I mean, I’m glad too.” Inwardly, he cursed his stilted words. He sounded like an idiot.

“Theon,” Oberyn nodded. Then he turned to Robb with a genial smile. “And your lovely companion on this fine evening?”

“Robb,” said Robb, and extended his own hand to shake, which Oberyn clasped warmly. Oberyn drew his eyes up and down Robb’s frame, taking in his outfit, but his smile didn’t falter.

“Wonderful to meet you, Robb.” Robb nodded, and Oberyn turned back to Theon and leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Cute. I’d say ten out of ten, if it weren’t for the unfortunate fit of the suit.” He pulled back and winked, so that Theon knew it was a joke and not intended to offend, and then he nodded again to both of them and turned to make his way to exit the restaurant.

Theon stared after him, aghast, before falling back into his seat and immediately burying his face in his arms on the tabletop.

“What’s wrong?” whispered Robb. “I don’t know who that was, but it seemed to go well, didn’t it?”

Theon just moaned into his sleeves, not caring who was watching. They’d doubtlessly already noticed him making a fool of himself in front of Oberyn Martell.

“The ice cream’s melting,” prodded Robb. Theon didn’t react until he felt Robb poke the top of his head with the end of his spoon.

 

_+I. In which Theon only gets a collective twenty-seven hours of sleep in thirteen days and Robb makes it worth it_

 

In his fourth year Fashion Design course, the final project was to design, pattern, and create three complete outfits for a cohesive line incorporating an “unexpected” element. Given that Theon had been feeling quite personally affronted for the past while that velvet and embroidery had come back into fashion for womenswear but not for men’s, he had decided to go the menswear route with velvet in particular, and embroidery if he could manage (and his own personal measurements in mind).

Each student had been given an allotment for the project to purchase their fabrics and other materials, but like most of the others in the course agreed, it was an amount that was fairly lacking, and so Theon had to fork over a portion of his own savings for what he needed. Still, if the final product came out the way he wanted, it would be worth it.

Ultimately, the issue came not from the assignment itself, but collectively from the summation of the classes he had to attend, the two exams he had to prepare for, and the extra shifts he had to take to make up for the expensive velvet and embroidery floss he had splurged on to still afford his rent. The only time he had available to work on the project outside of class was after seven in the evenings, and so he found himself in the workshop after the building had closed to the public for long hours, sketching croquis figures, draping on male dress forms, cutting patterns out of muslin and putting them together to ensure that his vision was being properly executed.

He was joined on occasion by Lhara, Marei and Talla, but they didn’t stay overnight as often or as long as Theon did; possibly it was because they weren’t frantic to produce items to add to their portfolio that would impress Oberyn Martell enough to have him take them back after graduation as more than just an intern, and possibly it was because Theon was just insane.

The long hours Theon worked obviously directly and inversely effected the amount of sleep he received. Several times, Theon worked straight through the night and went to his classes in the morning either dead on his feet or on a fatigued endorphin high. Other times, he fell asleep at his work table for an hour or two, to be awoken by the alarm on his phone when it was time to leave, and he’d do so bleary-eyed, clumsy, and with a terrible headache.

Though he wanted a cohesive collection, Theon didn’t want a repetitive silhouette, and of course he wasn’t about to make an outfit using velvet for both the top and bottoms. The tops he designed were short-sleeved and fitted; two were boat-necked, one deep navy velvet and the other black cotton; the third was V-necked and black velvet. For the bottoms he designed his own pattern for fitted joggers, and he cut one in the black velvet and the other the black cotton, the black velvet one slimmer with a more tapered leg. He decided to challenge himself for the third by making straight-leg jeans in a dark wash grey denim that he’d found in one of the bins that contained discarded fabric that were free reign to students.

Theon didn’t spend much time with Robb during those two weeks in which he was finishing his project, though he did eat dinner with him and twice he went back to the apartment with Robb for a brief but leisurely fuck before returning to the workshop. The first of those times was while he was still patterning, and after Robb had drifted off into a sated slumber, Theon sneakily measured around his biceps and the breadth of his shoulders and chest and waist. Though he would be the first to admit that the designs were basically wish-fulfillment and all the other pieces were designed for himself, Theon wanted the black velvet shirt to be Robb’s.

Because Theon had never attempted embroidery before, he saved it for last and hoped to the gods that he didn’t ruin the shirt, because if he did he would have to scramble to make a new one. Luckily the college had an embroidery machine that was free for use to students if they supplied their own materials, so he practiced several times on scraps of muslin, then on a scrap of velvet to be sure it would attain the same result, and then finally on the black velvet top. To Theon’s pleasure, after eight straight hours of work, the black velvet was brightened by several blue winter roses, enhanced with intricate silver threads, and though it wasn’t haute-couture level needlework Theon really was proud of himself. He was so pleased with the results, in fact, that he skipped his morning classes to embroider golden vines on his black velvet joggers and silver morning glories on the shoulders of the cotton shirt.

The evening after the project deadline, Theon tumbled heavily into Robb’s bed, having been prepared to bestow unto him his gift, but he fell asleep almost before he even closed his eyes. He was woken the following morning, a Saturday, by Robb’s fingers carding through his hair. When he opened his eyes, Robb was gazing at him, face pensive and soft.

“I haven’t woken up beside you in weeks,” he said, and Theon closed his eyes and leaned into Robb’s touch. “I’ve missed you.”

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck,” Theon groaned into his pillow.

The bed shook with Robb’s chuckle. “That’s what you get for barely sleeping for two weeks. Can I get you anything?”

Shaking his head, Theon gingerly propped himself up on his elbow and ran his hand through his hair, brushing it back and out of his face. “Nah. Well, maybe you could make me breakfast. But actually, I have something for you...”

He exited the bed and went to his backpack, where the finished clothes were stored, carefully wrapped. Robb threw his legs over the side of the bed and stretched, watching Theon remove the individual parcel.

“Here,” Theon said, handing Robb the package. “I made this one for you.”

Delicately, Robb pulled the paper away from the folded shirt. He took it in his fingers and held it aloft, shaking it to allow the folds to fall out of the fabric and reveal the exquisite embroidery. His lips parted, and his eyes widened as he surveyed Theon’s work.

“Wow,” he gasped, and lowered the shirt to look at Theon with such gratification that Theon couldn’t help himself from moving forward to put the shirt aside and sit himself on Robb’s lap, throwing his arms over Robb’s shoulders and linking his hands at the back of Robb’s neck. “Theon, it’s beautiful. Thank you.” He was so earnest; Theon kissed him, trying desperately to taste the emotion in his voice.

“Of course,” he whispered against Robb’s lips before pulling away and giving him a serious look. “Just, when it gets dirty, let me wash it, okay? I know you wouldn’t mean to, but if you fuck that up in the laundry I’ll be quite disappointed.”

“As you wish.” Robb lowered his hands to cup Theon’s arse, kneading the flesh gently, and tilted his head to bite at Theon’s lower lip. They fell back into the blankets, and didn’t emerge from the bedroom until much later that afternoon.

Several weeks later, Theon was informed by an excited Robb that for the long weekend, Jon and Ygritte would be driving down to visit them and Robb had planned a double date with Jon.

“We got a reservation for that barbeque place in the city, the one that always has two-hour waits,” said Robb, “And afterwards, we’ll visit the natural history museum. There’s a traveling exhibit on medieval armor that Jon says Ygritte wants to see, and I thought you’d like it too because it’s sort of like fashion.”

Theon couldn’t quite bring himself to be bothered, because Robb looked so eager and because honestly, since Theon’s relationship with Robb had gotten serious, he’d found that Jon irked him less and less. Someone else might say it was because Theon was more secure in himself and therefor had less negativity to project; Theon would say it was simply because Jon had outgrown much of his broodiness.

Jon and Ygritte arrived at their apartment in the evening the day before the date. Ygritte’s hair had been chopped short to just longer than her chin, while Jon’s had clearly grown even more out of control and was still knotted behind his head to show off the hipster undercut that he’d been sporting for far too long.

“Stark,” acknowledged Theon, after Robb and Jon had exchanged hugs and Ygritte had given both Robb and Theon smiles and socked them on their upper arms.

“Greyjoy,” nodded Jon.

The four of them talked amicably and ordered pizza, then Theon pulled a bottle of brandy from beneath the kitchen sink, and thereby the conversation turned quite a bit rowdier and friendlier until somehow, they had reached the topic of the legendary incident in which Ned Stark had stumbled upon Theon, aged thirteen, ‘pleasuring himself’ in the basement guest bathroom at one in the morning during a sleepover.  

Robb was giggling with his head in Theon’s lap, while Jon was slumped against his girlfriend with tears of mirth streaming from his eyes.

“And he... and he took Theon back into the upstairs bedroom where we were all sleeping,” said Robb, voice breaking helplessly, “And he woke up me and Jon, and he sat all of us down to give us a talk on puberty and our ‘burgeoning sexual urges, which were perfectly normal’...”

“And poor Greyjoy, Dad hadn’t even let him finish up, an’ he was trying so hard to cover himself with his hands. His face was red as a fuckin’... as a fuckin’...”

“What? You kept your fucking boner through Eddard Stark frog-marching you through that mansion?” Ygritte looked an intriguing combination of delighted, concerned, and impressed.

“In my defense, I get hard when I’m nervous. Robb’s dad catching me only made the problem worse.” Theon was covering his eyes with his hand, suffering some distress.

“I can vouch for that, actually,” Robb piped up, still attempting to stifle his giggles. “If we don’t fuck away his pre-exam nerves, he gets hard and stays hard through the whole test.” He let out a guffaw, “One time he–”

“If I recall, that story was supposed to stay private, between just myself and my trustworthy, honorable long-term boyfriend who would never betray my confidence,” interrupted Theon, and Robb bit his lip and turned to hide his face somewhat unhelpfully in Theon’s crotch. “Hey, I got a fun idea, how about we talk about one of Jon’s myriad embarrassing stories?”

“Please,” Ygritte said, accepting the subject change despite how Jon was still laughing silently at Theon’s misfortune into the side of her neck.

The next morning, Theon awoke before Robb, the more tolerant of alcohol of the two. He dressed for the day and found Ygritte also awake in the tiny living room, reading a book on the couch. She nodded at him as she turned a page.

“I made coffee,” she said, not bothering to keep her voice low. “I woke Jon up fifteen minutes ago, he’s throwing up in the bathroom. Can’t handle his fucking liquor.”

“It must be an inherited trait,” Theon commented. It would explain why Ned never showed himself before afternoon when he’d had drink the previous evening.

Theon set about in the kitchen making eggs and sausage, and just as the sausage was sputtering in the frying pan, both Jon and Robb emerged from their respective rooms. Jon looked wan and ill, but seemed to perk up at the smell of breakfast; Robb seemed less sick, but Theon could tell that he was nursing a headache. He stumbled shirtless in his shorts over to give Theon a kiss on his cheek, scraping Theon’s jaw with his stubble. He rested his chin on Theon’s shoulder and watched with heavy-lidded eyes as Theon stirred and flipped several sausages.

“Do you want eggs over-easy, or an omelette with tomato and peppers?” Theon whispered. Robb shrugged, and tapped his fingers against Theon’s hips.

“Over-easy,” he finally decided, and Theon nodded.

“I’ll make Jon’s scrambled,” he said.

“He hates scrambled eggs.”

“I know.” Theon smirked, and Robb snickered into his neck.

After breakfast (which Jon ate with a pout and a few murderous glances in Theon’s direction), Jon and Robb excused themselves to get dressed for the date, both going to Robb’s room where Jon and Ygritte were sleeping for the weekend (it wasn’t any great hassle, since Theon and Robb tended to share a bed anyway).

The two reentered the sitting room as Ygritte and Theon were pulling on their shoes. Theon could begrudge that Jon was dressed smartly; Robb, however, was an entirely different story.

To be quite fair, it wasn’t the entire outfit that was wrong. He had chosen the jeans that he knew were Theon’s favorites, a light wash that clung to his curves in a most enticing way, and he was wearing the velvet embroidered shirt that Theon had given him. That wasn’t much of a surprise: Robb had taken to wearing it at least once a week – which Theon chose to be flattered by even when Robb paired it with his favorite cargo shorts – and had even asked Theon to show him how to wash it properly so that he could actually do so himself. No, the problematic aspect of the ensemble was that he had chosen to wear a flannel button-up shirt over it.

To be precise, it wasn’t just any flannel overshirt; it was the most hideous flannel overshirt that Theon had ever seen. The main color was an obtrusive yellow, with salmon plaid overtop it, and red buttons that came off as garish rather than any kind of quirky. Theon faintly recognized it as something that Robb had worn only one or two times before...

Well, here’s the thing: Theon wasn’t a manipulative or controlling prick who would dictate what his boyfriend wore, or throw away his clothes. But he wasn’t above hiding exceptionally offensive items of clothing somewhere where Robb would (hopefully) not find them for a very long time, and by then have (hopefully) realized that they were eyesores and get rid of them himself. Theon had done that with this flannel shirt; he could faintly recall folding it into a tight ball, then tucking it inside the pocket of one of Robb’s sweatshirts that Theon knew he didn’t wear anymore, and then zipping the sweatshirt within the side pocket of Robb’s suitcase (a pocket that he never used). He didn’t think he’d seen the shirt in over a year, perhaps even two, but it didn’t seem that his plan had worked entirely because there it was, distasteful yellow and salmon partially obscuring the winter rose on the velvet top.

“Are we all ready to go?” Robb asked after he and Jon had put on their shoes, and when all had agreed, they departed to the bus stop.

The barbeque they ate for lunch was good, though it was mutually decided by the group that it certainly wouldn’t have been worth waiting in line for three hours; luckily it wasn’t overcharged. Throughout the meal, Theon was ungraciously hoping that Robb would spill sauce on the dreaded flannel shirt and have to take it off, but Robb was actually a surprisingly neat eater and didn’t spill a drop. On the way to the natural history museum, they all stopped at a street vendor to buy ice cream cones, which Robb ate with similar cleanliness before using his mouth to kiss the chocolate fudge from the corners of Theon’s.

“You two are really gross, you know that, right?” Ygritte commented, and Theon watched Jon dejectedly lower his hand from where he had raised it to wipe a dab of ice cream from Ygritte’s chin.

For the exhibit that Ygritte wanted to see, they all had to purchase separate tickets for it in addition to tickets for general admission, which was probably the most ridiculous thing Theon had ever heard. Robb reassured him by saying they would walk through the rest of the museum before they left so it wouldn’t be a total rip-off, so Theon didn’t outright refuse and walk out of the museum.

After they entered, Ygritte immediately pulled Jon away towards a smaller section of the exhibit that showcased the thick animal skin coats and rough-hewn weapons of ancient Free Folk spearwives. Theon and Robb began at the beginning, drifting from display to display. Theon read the placards for the displays and admired the minute details sewn into the cloaks, eyes occasionally darting to Robb when the gaudy yellow of the flannel caught his eye.

“Okay,” Robb said eventually, “You’ve been looking at me strange all day. Did I miss a spot shaving?”

Theon tilted his head and tried to think of an inoffensive way to broach the subject.

“No, nothing like that. It’s just... er, your overshirt, it’s quite...”

“Oh!” Robb cheered and looked down at his shirt. “Yeah! It’s quite bright, isn’t it?”

Theon rolled his eyes. “That’s an apt description.”

“Yes, it’s actually very funny, I got this shirt a few years ago, but I only wore it a few times before it disappeared. And then I found it in the pocket of my suitcase the other day! I must have packed it for one of my weekends home and forgotten.”

Theon hummed, a clever way to avoid agreeing and lying or disagreeing and having to come clean.

“Anyway, I’m really glad I found it. I was worried I’d lost it. I know it’s not really the most fashion-forward shirt, but...” he blushed, and Theon became suddenly interested. “It has a very important meaning to me.”

“How so?” asked Theon, curious and skeptic. Robb seemed only to flush further, and he tugged at the sleeve on his left wrist absent-mindedly.

“Well,” muttered Robb, avoiding eye contact with Theon but smiling shyly, “I was wearing it when I realized I was in love with you.”

Theon was stunned. When he didn’t say anything, Robb decided to elaborate.

“It wasn’t really any big thing that caused it. I just remember, it was a few months after we started dating, I think. You were walking me to class, I don’t recall which one, and we passed by a rubbish bin on the quad and this great, fat squirrel jumped out of it and fucking hissed at us.” Robb laughed, and Theon strained to remember the event, but could do no better than conjure a blurry image of Robb in the yellow shirt, with it buttoned all the way up. “You got so pissed off, you glared at the squirrel and said ‘Have you ever thought about calming the fuck down?’” Robb interrupted himself to laugh at his memory. “And then we kept on, and you ranted about how much you hate squirrels for the rest of the walk, and it was so petty and stupid and it just hit me.”

“That you loved me?”

“No,” Robb rolled his eyes and shook his head, “I’ve loved you since we were boys, in all the time we’ve been friends, you know that. It hit me that I was _in_ love with you.”

“You realized that you were in love with me because I was being petty and stupid about a squirrel?”

“Sort of.” He shrugged. “See, when I was little, I used to imagine that one day I’d meet my fairytale princess, and have this lovely, perfect bride...”

“Strike one already,” muttered Theon.

“... but then I started liking you as more than just a friend. And you’re pretty far from perfect.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re cocky and egotistical, and selfish at times...”

“It just gets better.”

“... and you can say some very hurtful things when you’re feeling spiteful, and you project all of your insecurities onto Jon in the most obvious way...”

“Ouch.”

“... and honestly, at the time I really didn’t want to hear another rant about squirrels, so I was quietly seething the entire time with annoyance.”

Theon was, frankly, feeling fairly put-down at that point. He kicked the toe of his shoe against the floor and stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets.

“So, we’ve clarified that I’m pretty fucking far from your childhood ideal. Is there a point to this?”

Robb must have heard the poorly hidden hurt in Theon’s tone, because he reached over and gently extricated one of Theon’s hands from his pocket so that he could hold it in his own.

“The point,” said Robb, eyes tender, “Is that just then I realized: even with all your flaws, all of those traits of yours that I can find irritating – even if you never improve upon them, even if they never change or go away – that I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I love you so totally that nothing, not even you, could make me want to leave.”

Robb squeezed Theon’s hand as Theon stood there, stiff, trying to swallow down the tightness in his throat and blink away the strange blurring in his eyes. They stood in silence for a couple minutes, Theon staring at the floor and Robb staring at Theon. Finally, Theon coughed, and when he spoke his voice was a mite shaky.

“That was profound, but you know I’m not exactly the best at romantic speeches.”

Smiling, Robb elbowed him softly. “I know. I just wanted to tell you; that’s why I’m glad I found this shirt again.”

They continued to walk through the exhibit, though Theon chose to devote the majority of his gaze to Robb. Robb, sweet Robb, with his broad shoulders and muscular arms; with stubble already beginning to shadow his jaw only hours after shaving; with his curly hair messy and getting a little too long; with his blue eyes bright and vibrant, and his freckles standing out on his cheeks even against his excited blush; with his full lips parted in an awed smile as he voiced his admiration of his favorite pieces.

“I think you would wear something like this, if you were alive back then,” Robb said, indicating a set of leather studded armor set off by a long black cloak that was embroidered with tendrils of gold. Theon smiled and agreed.

He was glad Robb had found the shirt again, too.

**Author's Note:**

> The art accompanying this fic (which illustrates the final scene) can be found [here](https://goddamn-i-really-died-for-this.tumblr.com/image/168934606653) at my [tumblr](https://goddamn-i-really-died-for-this.tumblr.com/). Please check it out and let me know what you think!
> 
> I'm actually constitutionally incapable of writing fluff-fic, so I'm a little surprised how incredibly fluffy this is and how there's almost zero angst. 
> 
> Comments are always dearly appreciated. Come bug me on tumblr!


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